NINETEEN
He really, honestly, hadn’t meant for it to happen. His intentions, at least, had been pure. John had been in pain, and whatever else was between them, however weird things had gotten, Brett couldn’t make himself not care about that.
But it was like something had snapped inside of Brett, something to do with the stress that he was under, and the asshole he had dealt with earlier that day. For years, maybe, this had been building, years of being in love with someone that he could really never have.
It had all built up, most of it while he hadn’t even been aware of it, and when John had been lying under him, everything had burst loose all at once. And looking down now into John’s flushed face, watching his lips parted with his rapid breathing, he couldn’t even regret it. He had never thought of himself as the type of person who would sleep with someone without the possibility of a relationship, but John got into his head, into his heart, like no one else ever had.
Still, he waited. He had made John come, and if John told him that he was done now, Brett would let him go. So, after telling him his intention, he paused for a moment, just watching this gorgeous man and trying to tell himself that he could somehow live without him like he was so soon going to do.
“If we’re not done, you’d better take off your clothes.” John’s voice was matter-of-fact, logical, but his eyes were alight and glistening, shooting off emerald sparks as he gave Brett this intensely coy look. So flirtatious, not the sort of thing that Brett had ever imagined that he would get to see from this man.
But it was the sign that he had been waiting for—the permission that he needed. Brett shifted off of him, and he couldn’t take off his clothes fast enough, not when John was watching him, when his gorgeous, brilliant eyes were fixed on Brett, tracing his body with his gaze, exploring every inch of skin that Brett revealed as though he wanted to devour it.
There was something so shamelessly sensual about John. It made Brett shiver with delight as he stripped down completely, and even when he lowered his pants and his boxers, revealing just how hard he was, how much he needed John, it was easier for him not to feel any shame, either. John made him braver.
In seconds, Brett was falling down into bed with John, who still smelled like sweat and his own release. But it had apparently been enough of a break that John was ready again because he rolled toward Brett and pulled him into his arms and kissed him with an undeniable, intense, hunger. Like he wanted to devour Brett, just as much as Brett wanted to devour him.
There was no more talking. Some sort of agreement had been struck between them, that for tonight, at least, they would do what they both obviously still wanted to do. As for what would happen later, that could be dealt with later.
And if this was goodbye, Brett was going to make it the most absolutely incredible goodbye that it could be.
Brett groaned as he was suddenly pushed onto his back, pinned down so easily by a man who, though he often lost sight of the fact, was taller and bigger, and so strong, to the point where it was almost effortless for John to take control of him.
On his back, feeling the soft press of the mattress as he was trapped between it and John’s huge body, Brett stared up at John and wondered what he would do next. Every time that they had been together, Brett had topped, and now Brett was left wondering if that was going to change and if he wanted it to.
No one had ever had Brett like this before, but if John wanted it, he could have it. That was the conclusion he came to, and yet, the surge of disappointment that he felt when John reached over for a condom and sheathed Brett’s erection with it, that sort of surprised him.
Part of him had been more than curious about it. Part of him had wanted it. But given how things were between them, maybe it was for the best that they didn’t cross this one final boundary between them. Brett would happily let someone fuck him, he had realized that, but he would need a real commitment, and that wasn’t something that John could give him.
Still, the disappointment was there, and he couldn’t deny that even though he sort of wanted to.
Straddling him, John reached behind himself, gripping Brett’s sheathed cock and holding it at the right angle. With a soft groan, John lowered himself down onto Brett, and Brett cried out as that tight heat, which he had been so sure that he would never have again, clenched around him.
It was all so weird, all so wrong, twisted subtly. They wouldn’t meet each other’s eyes, even as intimately locked as they were, for instance. And John didn’t lean down to kiss him, contenting himself with simply resting his fingertips against Brett’s chest, just to steady himself. Brett’s hands, meanwhile, lay empty and useless on the bed, not sure if he was allowed to reach up and grip John’s ass, or his hips.
Not sure about anything.
Still, it felt good. His body, at least, didn’t know anything was wrong, and his hips thrust happily up into John’s hot body, which felt just as much like he was welcoming him in as ever. Maybe even more so, because with gravity pulling John down, Brett shoved up even deeper inside of him without even needing to try.
On one level, it was all right, all good, all just as amazing as ever. But on another, deeper one, far below the surface, it was confusing and even a little awkward, and distracting enough that the pleasure built up far slower inside Brett than he was used to.
John seemed to be feeling the same way, from how he was writhing and moaning and rocking his hips down onto Brett, not quite able to find release, which had never been a problem for them before. Finally, John reached down, gripping his own erection and stroking himself roughly, impatiently.
It should have been quite something to see, and it even was. It was just that Brett wasn’t sure why he hadn’t thought to reach out and do what John was doing to himself. Finally, Brett had to close his eyes and remember the times that they had slept together before, the times when it had all been heat and passion and hope. That was it, the key. Hope.
Brett just wasn’t the type of person who could have sex with someone if he wasn’t really with them. That was one thing that he had discovered from this whole experience. He would never try it again because he couldn’t give his body without giving his heart and soul.
Which meant that this might just be the last time, and Brett, with his eyes squished so tightly shut that he felt the little muscles around his eyes protesting with the strain of it, as he felt the splatter of John’s fluids on his stomach, couldn’t help but mourn that. When the pleasure came to wash him away, he went willingly into it, not wanting to think anymore. Blissfully unaware, for just a few seconds, of everything else.
That was the biggest gift that being with John had given him, maybe. The ability to, just for a few moments at a time, not overthink everything. To allow himself just to feel. And he would mourn losing that, along with all of the rest.
John’s body was gone soon enough, and Brett dealt with the condom. He wondered briefly if John would go to his own room now, but John just pulled the covers over himself and rolled over onto his side.
It took only seconds to fall asleep, but it was a light, thin sleep. He was even dimly aware of it when the clock on the bedside table informed him cheerfully that it was now officially past midnight, and therefore, it was Christmas Eve.
They didn’t cuddle, neither of them tossed or turned, so they didn’t even accidentally brush. Having John there, but not there, was intensely confusing, and it was almost a relief when Brett heard the buzz of a phone. The clock told him it was just past six in the morning, but that wasn’t earlier than his boss had called him into work before. He would cheerfully go, for once.
But it wasn’t his phone. It was John’s, and the other man reached over, grumbling slightly, and snagged it out of his pocket. Brett, knowing that he wouldn’t sleep anymore this morning regardless of the time, pushed himself onto his elbow and watched John’s back. It was still dark outside, for crying out loud. Who could it be?
